We are not here to be your substitute for luife, LH, nor to entertain you. The fount of wisdom and knowledge here found is yours to drink from as you will, but if you find it boring you might want to ask why you would want to be projectin gthat particular sensation.

"We are not here to be your substitute for luife, LH, nor to entertain you."

You're NOT???

Damn. Well, there goes that idea.

Amos, I've noticed that your spelling is deteriorating at an exponential rate lately. What's up, doc? Are you under stress? Is the election campaign getting to you? Meds not working right? Womenopause setting in?

I once suffered from that, Amos. But dedicating your life and wealth to others is a certain cure. May I send an address to which you can send your wealth?

Another certain cure (albeit one with certain side effects possible) is to become active in the Idaho Legion. Right now they are lobbying the Idaho Congressional Delegation for an anti-submarine blimp base so that the Snake River can be properly protected against U-boats.

Well, since I was not complaining of this malaise, but LH was, and he approves of both ideas, itseems logtical to predict he will be implementing them shortly. Go ahead and send him the wealth address. It won't be much, but it will surely lift his spirits to send it,, pittance or no.

Isn't that the truth? I once saw (from a distance - I don't think I would have survived otherwise) the Head Librarian of a CONVENT! That's a double whammy - Nun AND Librarian! And she was from a teaching order to boot!

Woodest thou be speaking from experience? Tho' he swears he woodst not, yet as his bark biteth, so his tongue gives rough answers to the truth. The root of the matter's too deep to wot, whole or rotten.

I would not be speaking from experience, but from only a branch of it, watching my friend Rob crumple into sawdust from venereal dry rot. You see, he became too fond of a tree and could not separate xylem from phloem or love from lust. One night of passion, a few days of splinters, and then a lifetime of VDR. He tried everything, even epoxy treatments, but it was too late and he finally crumbled away. And the tree, it continued to lift its leafy arms to prey.

Fences!? Arboreal necrophilia? Pervert! You're the sort who frequent lumber yards and lumber mills, panting and drooling in overheated lust! The sort who give honest craftspeople a bad name! I hope that you're buried in a cheap coffin of rough-sawn poison ivy stems, face down, your perverted part shoved through a knothole so that it will be the first thing the worms nibble upon.

And Amos, all of our materials are made from rag-based cloth, not (shudder!) wood pulp. The paper, that is. CDs, DVDs, and especially MP3s aren't made from paper.

Oh - how truly perverted! Obviously, Rapaire, you are one of those who believe that perennials are superior to mere annuals. Why is an Aspen or other pulp tree more precious a life then that of flax? Indeed, since the latter's life is so fleeting, to descrate their mortal remains is even more hideous.

THere's no happy solution here, is there? You're either vandalizing the souls of vegetable entities or polluting the electro-magnetosphere, and we're plumb out of stone tablets. A librarian's lot is not a happy one...

Leo, be happy that they're recycling most of these fibers, they're taking the tacky low-slung acid-washed Old Navy jeans that were too tight to begin with and now are discarded with little regard for reusing of such garments. It has been SNATCHED from the mouldering heap at the land fill and has instead been shreaded and (probably) bleached and turned into paper to live again.

"Gracchus has presented to a cornet player-or perhaps it was a player on the straight horn-a dowry of four hundred thousand sesterces. The contract has been signed; the benedictions have been pronounced; a crowd of banqueters seated, the new made bride is reclining on the bosom of her husband. O ye nobles of Rome! is it a soothsayer that we need, or a Censor? Would you be more aghast, would you deem it a greater portent, if a woman gave birth to a calf, or a cow to a lamb? The man who is now arraying himself in the flounces and train and veil of a bride once carried the nodding shields[21] of Mars by the sacred thongs and sweated under the sacred burden!

126 O Father of our city, whence came such wickedness among thy Latin shepherds? How did such a lust possess thy grandchildren, O Gradivus? Behold! Here you have a man of high birth and wealth being handed over in marriage to a man, and yet neither shakest thy helmet, nor smitest the earth with thy spear, nor yet protestest to thy Father? Away with thee then; begone from the broad acres of that Martial Plain[22] which thou hast forgotten..." (Juvenal)

IT is awful and wondrous to consider that the next really good summer read you open may be hanging on the threads of some long-past bikini, or teddy, or slip, innit? Thus from beauty unto beauty every fiber shall have its service anew.